I'm Still Human
by MrChubbyBeak
Summary: A young man with a bright future ahead of him is stopped in his tracks when the Green Flu breaks out in Pennsylvania. He is transformed into a creature he never could've imagined existed. Now he must come to terms with what is going on around him. Rated T because of violence and language.


_(Author's Notes: Back from the dead with a Left 4 Dead fanfic! Not the "World Without Aperture" update everyone was expecting, sorry! Due to popular demand, I have resumed working on it! For now, please enjoy this story. Please let me know if I need to change the rating or if this story is unsuitable to post on .  
Unfortunately, as I type this, I've realized some mistakes in the story. Feel free to point them out anyway.)_

_(WARNING: Story contains blood, some language, depressing topics, and self-harm.)  
_

_Left 4 Dead © Valve  
_

I always knew I'd regret moving to Pennsylvania. I wanted to spread my wings. Hopefully impress the family by going out on my own and leaving our cozy New York home for a small dorm in a Philadelphia university. Make some new friends. Maybe get a new girlfriend. Hell, I don't even know why I picked Pennsylvania. I could've gone to California, for all I care. It wouldn't have mattered anyway.

The outbreaks came from nowhere. First, someone was sick and then quarantined, but then, BAM! More people started to catch the disease. This "Green Flu" business started just two and a half weeks ago, right in good 'ole Pennsylvania. From here, it's just spiraled out of control. CEDA, the group that named the flu and is trying to contain it, is doing a real shitty job.

Populations were quickly wiped out and the ill became these zombie-like things that were named the "Infected". They were never dead, unlike the traditional zombie, but they've got these soulless gazes, pale skin, and they feast on each other (I haven't seen one eat a true human before, just beat them around). Creative naming the media has, right? The ones I just mentioned are "Common Infected".

I've caught glimpses of international news channels detailing what's going on. They have different names for each type of Infected that is particularly dangerous. I'm not really sure if it was the media or if it was CEDA that named us, though. There's Boomers, nasty pricks called Smokers, Witches, Tanks, and Hunters. Apparently there's a few more sprouting up down south. They're called Spitters, Jockeys, and Chargers.

Oh, right. _Us._

I never mentioned I was a Hunter, did I? Yeah, crucial part of my story right there.

I'm different from the rest of these things. I still think like a normal human. Immediately after becoming Infected, I could still control my actions as well, but that isn't the case anymore. Anyways, on the inside, I'm a regular guy, but definitely not on the outside.

Other than the fact I'm still mentally sane, or I like to think I am, I'm just your regular Hunter. Hood up, gross sweatpants, and complete with grungy duct tape.

I'm climbing up your buildings, pouncing on your people, so hide your…Sorry. Look, I don't enjoy being a Hunter. I'm just trying to cling to my humanity here. Making stupid references and dropping the occasional joke is in my nature.

When I first changed two weeks ago (I was probably among the first 2,000 to be Infected, that's how lame I am), I felt everything on my body morph. While fleeing my dorm building with a group of friends, I wasn't being careful and practically just let myself be a couple of Common Infected's meals. You know, the traditional trip and fall, can't get up, that kit n' caboodle. All it took was a scratch, a bite, and a little blood and then I was done for.

I never thought I could be in so much pain. At first, I felt as if I was being burned alive. Sorry, but I'm getting a bit hazy on details. All I can think of was my screaming. I was screaming, and screaming, just calling for someone to help me. I guess a couple of my buddies tried to come back for me, but then my yells started to transform from simple cries to these terrible, high pitched screeches that echoed across my school's campus. The cry of what is now known as a Hunter.

After that, they all just ran like hell and left me there to howl in vain. I remember just laying on the pavement, shaking. Claws formed, replacing my fingertips, and my canines lengthened in a dramatic fashion. This was straight out of a goddamn zombie movie. And I would know, I made one for a project sophomore year. I am – was – a directing major, after all. What's a future director without a corny zombie flick under his belt? The zombie movie I was starring in was WAY crazier than something I ever could've thought up.

I was no longer myself in minutes. _Minutes_.

That's all it takes in real life. It took a few days for a zombie bite to take effect in my short movie. Well, you don't know the truth until it happens to you, in this sad case. Shit, I was even changed in broad daylight! Seven in the morning! A lot of movies only show zombie apocalypses happening on a dark night. They lied to me!

The first thing this blockbuster star did after finishing his ten minute quivering session and then play dead for two hours (I had to convince myself to even twitch after I stopped trembling), was sit up, look his new body over, and then proceed to stare into space. At this point, I realized three things: one, I can still think for myself, two, I was able to control my actions still, and three; I sure as hell was not immune.

I tried to speak. When only growls and barks came out, I panicked and began to attempt to rehearse various popular sayings. I lifted a newly clawed hand and held an imaginary skull – I think the acting class I took last term is still getting to me, even as a freaking Hunter – and barked out my own Infected-esque version of the Shakespeare saying, "to be or not be, that is the question."

It took a few more acted-out scenes for me to come to my senses and figure out I was just making a fool out of myself. There were some Infected mingling around, but they didn't pay any mind to me, thank God.

Before I started to walk with my "new" legs, I tested myself. I flapped my arms and legs around like an injured bird to make sure I could still move. I wiggled each finger and each toe to make sure I still had them. Eventually, I was satisfied that I still had all of the necessary limbs to move, so I sauntered off back into my dormitory building. I didn't really know where else I could go. If I followed my friends, they'd probably dispatch me with ease. They were carrying baseball bats and machetes courtesy of our classmates and a few professors (why our teachers had machetes…I don't even want to know). My own bat had flown off into the bushes in my haste to fight back against my attackers. It's not of any use to me now.

My vision had suddenly become blurry. I rubbed at my eyes while on my short walk to the dorm building's entrance, but this didn't help at all. I figured it was a side affect of being infected.

The entry room of our building is a mutual living space turned safe room. We had camped out on the ground floor for a while before Infected from the floors above forced us outdoors. My friends and I were supposed to be the last to be evacuated by CEDA, but then none of their agents came back for us. We were left to fend for ourselves.

My girlfriend was in the last group of civilians CEDA took to safety. We shared a tearful and almost cheesy goodbye. I assured her we'd see each other soon, too. Yeah, well, under the circumstances, I think she'd scream like those girls in the horror movies if she saw me now. So screw a happy ending for us. But damn, she was the girl I was gonna marry.

When I entered the living space, beer and rotting food assaulted my nostrils, causing me to retreat from the doorway at first. I don't know how I stood the smell earlier. No, I was not a frat boy, and nor was anyone else in the building, but there were still empty beer cans scattered everywhere. My friends thought getting drunk would make this whole apocalypse just disappear. Yeah, right. Maybe if I grabbed a can from the fridge, I could be a drunken zombie?

The couches here have been heavily used for the past few days, evidenced by the permanent flattened cushions, faded fabric, and dirt. Balled up chip bags and disheveled boxes of powdered doughnuts rested on the coffee tables. We pretty much survived on crap for a few days.

For some time, I milled around the used safe room. I crashed on the couch, rifled through magazines that were stowed under tables, played a round of pool in the back room, and attempted to fix the smashed television.

While napping on the couch, mid-snore, I rolled over and was startled awake by a lump and then a _crack_ that came from my sweatshirt's front pocket. Sitting up, I stuffed my hand in the nook and pulled out my phone. I had cracked its screen with only my weight. I was a bit peeved the thing broke, but I turned it on anyway. A little voicemail icon was displayed in its top bar. Seeing that icon made me gloomy.

My parents back in New York had left me a message, saying they hoped I was safe, they love me, and that they were packing to be evacuated. Even my little brother took the phone and said how much he loves me. It's been years since I've heard the twit say he loves me. It really broke my heart. God, my friends probably thought I was such a wuss while I was listening to their voicemail only just a few hours ago. Whatever, I don't give a damn about what they thought or said. All I needed to know was that they were okay.

Instead of listening to the message again, I just placed my phone back in my hoodie's pocket and went back to sleep. I woke up well rested at around 4 p.m.

Ultimately, I decided I had better things to do than be a lazyass, so I wanted to take one last visit to my dorm. I seriously doubt I'll ever be in there for school purposes again, so I'll just relieve some old memories while I'm here. Even if this whole apocalypse suddenly went away and life came back, I doubt my college would accept a zombie among its population.

As I walked by a doughnut box-coated table, without a thought, I flicked open a seemingly fresh container and popped the last powdery pastry in my mouth. Zombies get hungry too, I guess.

I instantly regretted my actions. I spat the while ball out and wiped the sugar off my face and tongue. The thing felt like someone dumped a bucket of acid in my mouth! I loved the diabetes-balls as I kid, and I still do! What the hell, man! Can't a zombie have some simple pleasures in his life?

Angry and a bit shaken by the pain that little doughnut just gave me, I stomped off down a hall, past the kitchen and laundry room, and up our building's only staircase. After scaling two flights, I stepped off and went down the third floor's main hallway. Electricity seemed to be available to the whole building still, even two weeks later, so I could clearly distinguish bloodstains in various parts of the hall. Those could only be stains from the Infected that had attacked my friends and I earlier.

I peeked around the floor before visiting my dorm. Everywhere I looked there were barricades besides at the stairs I entered at. Who's the smartass that thought that was a good idea? I didn't find any Infected, so I headed back to the floor's only entrance.

My old dorm that I once shared with a roommate, my best friend, was the first door to the left once off the stairs. Its door was hanging on by one hinge and it was missing large chunks of wood, probably from Common Infected pounding on it for a long time. I squeezed past and entered my room.

It was an absolute mess. I was devastated by the damage that had been done. So much for good memories.

The room was dark because we had taped over the windows, but I could still see thanks to the hall lights. The room's main light switch had been torn off, exposing open wires. An overturned bookshelf had splayed its collection everywhere. My desk and laptop were bits and pieces. Posters of the people who are my directing inspirations were just slips of crinkled paper. Even my best friend's fantastic art projects had been ruined. This would've just destroyed him if he could see this place now.

Now that I think about it, he was probably the one who tried to help me earlier. Damnit Carson, I'm so sorry. I'm really sorry, buddy.

As I was still taking in the scene before me, a shiny roll of something that didn't fit in caught my eye. I cautiously stepped over the hazard-filled dorm to reach the glistening thing. It was just the roll of duct tape Carson and I had used to tape a black piece of paper over the window. I snatched it up and didn't think twice as a blistered hand tightly wrapped up the opposite wrist in the metallic tape. I did the same to my other wrist, upper arms, thighs, and finally my lower calves. I'm not sure what haunted me to wrap myself up right at that moment, but it ended up being a helpful action later on.

What came next was triggered by something, but I don't know what. My feelings of anger and depression about my whole predicament overflowed as I carelessly flung the roll of tape back into the piles of broken possessions and resumed what the Common Infected and started.

My roars of fury must've shaken the building. I began my rampage at my half of the room; feathers from my bed's pillows flew out and coated the space with down as I diced them with my nails. I took the mattress off my bed and flung it against the opposite wall, Carson's wall, leaving defined claw marks across it. I furiously scratched at what remained of my posters, ripping off the white plaster walls. Now done with the walls, I put my back to them and raided the joint closet, slamming open the sliding wood door. I dared to only touch my own clothing. I pried wads of shirts and jeans off their hangers and shredded them to pieces, throwing them up in the air once I was finished with them. I reached a new low when I put a shoe in my mouth and pulled it into two pieces. It tasted better than the doughnut, at least.

My half of the closet was now empty, but there was a damn zombie hiding behind my clothes. Still in a rage, I snarled and raised my claws in defense, until the Infected man did the same. I was looking at myself through the untouched mirror that rested in the back of the closet.

I stared at my reflection for a while before dropping my defensive stance and stepping inside. The closet was positioned so light from the hall could enter, and I could make out my new features.

I narrowed my eyes and blinked to make sure I was seeing things correctly. Glowing red and glossy eyes did the same. When my mouth dropped open in shock and horror, I saw a set of sharp fangs had replaced my teeth. My lip was already bleeding from my canines getting caught on it. Dark hair clung to my face and neck because of sweat and dirt. My breathing was labored, as I could see by my hoodie heaving in and out.

Putting my hand on the mirror and then curling in my fingers, I took in its coolness all while registering what I now appeared as. Nothing less than a cold-blooded killer, a terrible monster, is what stood before me. I brought my other hand to my face, letting claws graze my clammy cheek. I withdrew the other hand and brought that one to my face as well.

I pinched my cheeks, just like my mom always told me to do, trying to wake myself from this nightmare. But when I still stood in front of the mirror that was housed in a wrecked dormitory five minutes later, I just lost it again.

Blood trickled down my cheeks as my fingertips dug into my eyes. It was such a quick movement, a speed I didn't know I was capable of. My body was just doing its own thing. I was wrong when I thought I still had control over my actions.

I tore at my eyes, spraying the clear mirror with a mosaic of my blood. My fingertips dug and dug away. Abruptly, I stopped my self-destructive behavior. I needed to stop. Now. I had to be human still, if only a little. This wasn't human. This wasn't me. What was I doing?

My hands were shaking as I slowly pulled them away. Vomit-inducing _squicks_ and _squeaks_ came from my eyes as I removed my fingers out of them. Up until then, I had shown no pain. Now I was cringing, shivering, and fighting down howls. Once my hands were fully removed, I clenched them into fists in front of my face, and then let the tension out. More squishing sounds came from my pale palms, the warm substance that was my blood coating more of my hands. My heavy breathing quieted the sounds only a little.

I'm practically blind. Miraculously, I could make out shadows in my right eye. I got rid of the blurriness but with an even worse outcome.

Here comes the woe-is-me phase of my tirade. Right there, still in the closet, I dropped to my knees and cried out as a baby animal would for their mother. I whined like a kicked puppy. The blood that was still dripping out of my eyes emulated the tears I couldn't shed. Everything just came crashing down as I realized the full extent of what has happened to me.

I'll admit. Right then, I missed my parents. I missed my little brother. I missed my girlfriend. I missed my best friend. Trust me, I still do, but at that moment I'd give anything to see them, even if it was only one glance and that was it.

I shed my bloody tears. I'm the only one I can rely on now. No one is going to care for a zombie that is going crazy. No friends to watch my back. No dad to make me laugh and feel better. No mom to give me chicken noodle soup because I'm sick. They were all miles away from me by now.

I've got absolutely nothing, and I probably will never get it back. I am dead to the world.

For all I know, I had spent days in that closet. Just sitting there with my forehead pressed against the mirror.

When I finally dragged myself out, the sun was gone and the night with its creatures had come out. I stalked over to my fallen mattress, tripping over every little thing in my path, brought it back to my bed, and shamefully placed it on the bed frame. I crawled onto it and lay down in the fetal position, smearing some dried blood over my mattress' yellowing surface. I wouldn't move again until I felt the pangs of hunger the next morning.

_(End Notes: Again, let me know if this story is too violent or just plain unsuitable to be posted here. Also, please note this chapter is also posted on my Tumblr blog "meipurusan". Thank you for your time._


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